


Quality Control

by Burntfalls



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Armor Porn, Bottom Tony Stark, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 07:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20617565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burntfalls/pseuds/Burntfalls
Summary: Tony Stark has some questionable methods of quality control. Barnes is happy to oblige.





	Quality Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CircleUp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CircleUp/gifts).

“It’ll just take another second.” Tony murmured with some tool Bucky didn’t recognize propped between his teeth.

He might not have been talking to Buck at all- he was essentially invisible among the little (and big) robots that bustled around the little workshop while Tony worked. He addressed them by name, Dum-E, Screwball, Bob (or B.O.B. -- Buck thought that might have been an acronym but he hadn’t asked for what.)

In fact he’d barely given Bucky’s _face_ two seconds of attention after he’d propped his arm up on the work table. Tony’s focus on the task at hand was singular. The task _and_ his own tech.

Buck couldn’t help but notice how Tony’s eyes slid over the glossy new prosthetic with a glint of lust mixed in with that pride. How could he _not_ find something so perfect of his own making sexy? He’d designed it, after all. Bucky cocked his head with a faint smirk as Tony finally sat back- four hours of fitting electronic connections to freshly healed skin covering nerves and bone and that was it.

“Move your fingers.” Tony told his patient.

He obliged. The silver, red and and black fingers drummed on the metal table with a light, metallic ‘tum tum tum’ sounding far less powerful than they truly were.

“Looks nice.” Buck murmured, watching Tony’s face rather than his own, shiny new hand.

“Yeah.” Tony breathed.

“We need to test it out.” Buck pointed out casually, his drawl came on particularly thick when he was trying to pull off _relaxed but purposeful flirting_.

“Well, we could go to the garage--” Tony began, wiping his hands off on a rag before he hunched over the hand again and lifted it off the table, turning it in his own calloused fingers to inspect the wrist.

“I thought I might test out the tactile abilities first.” Bucky mused, tugging his new wrist free to test his own fingertips against Tony’s pulse.

Tony blinked at the hand and then arched a brow and slid a smirk toward his patient-turned-conquest, “That so, big guy?”

“Seems to me I’ve had enough fighting with a weapon for an arm…” Barnes agreed and stood, tugging Tony up with him. They’d been unofficially together, though below the radar, for a few months- the result of too many late nights of quiet company in the shop and distracting each other from a plethora of nightmares.

“Time to make love, not war?” Tony chuckled and let Bucky direct him.

“Tony.” Barnes’s expression sobered and his arm slid around the other man’s waist, tucking him tight to Barnes’ own chest, “This is serious quality control testing.” the prosthetic hand slid up Tony’s arm and over his shoulder, the cool metal sliding over Tony’s exposed skin just above the collar of his shirt.

It didn’t take super-soldier observation skills to see how Tony’s breath caught and his eyes glazed just a little at the contact. Curious, Barnes slid the thumb of his shiny new hand over Tony’s throat. He could feel every single hair follicle. Every thwump of Tony’s pulse beneath his newly-updated palm, now meant for feeling the world rather than merely destroying it.

“You like this.” he observed quietly- the hum and whir of the bots tidying up in the background became static against the heat bubbling up between them.

“I’m, well, _yeah_.” Tony sputtered, remaining oddly still for a man who couldn’t stop fidgeting for all of two seconds in the entirety of the day, “I’ve got my balls in a very sexy vice by a very sexy super-soldier--”

“No.” Bucky interrupted and he tilted Tony’s chin up with the crook of his palm, cradling his jaw between a metal thumb and pointer finger, the rest of the fingers spread over Tony’s cheek, “You like my hand.”

Tony knew what he meant and there wasn’t any escaping it. For a man who never shut up it was a triumph when he merely nodded, Adam’s apple bobbing with a heavy swallow.

A smirk split Bucky’s lips- not the kind, gentle one he was sometimes caught wearing but a sharply satisfied, intentional one that spoke of a promise Tony couldn’t wait to have fulfilled. 

Tony let out a ragged breath but not to be shut up so easily, he asked, “Well, you just going to look at me all day or make good on--”

The metal hand squeezed lightly over Tony’s throat and cut off his words by mere intention, not force. Buck nodded once with agreement and suddenly Tony was turned and pressed down to the table, “Where’s your suit?” he wondered.

Tony lifted his head to jut his chin toward the corner while remaining sprawled down on the work table, chest heaving with anticipation. Buck’s new hand caressed the nape of Tony’s neck and pushed him slowly back down to the surface, heavy boots knocking Tony’s feet apart so he could rest his hips against Tony’s backside.

Tony’s cheek pressed to the cool surface of the table and he let out a moan, “C’mon big guy, I didn’t take you for a tease.”

“Good.” Buck hummed agreeably and then said, “Give me access to voice controls for the Mark Forty-six.” his tone was even and expectant and his real hand made short work of Tony’s button and fly and suddenly his bare ass was exposed.

Tony managed to choke out, “Friday? Give temporary access to Barnes. What he said.” Thankfully Friday wasn’t in a particularly sassy mood at the moment (or she had more compassion for Tony’s relatively pitiful sexlife than he’d realized) and a moment later the suit was powering up.

“Good.” Buck exchanged his metal hand on the back of Tony’s neck for the flesh one and Tony felt the cool palm of the prosthetic grope a cheek. A second later Buck had ordered the suit to hold Tony down and when Tony began to shoot off his mouth again (which honestly just seemed like pure invitation) he had the suit shove a pair of fingers between his lips.

“Seems like that suit knows what it’s doing.” Bucky drawled lazily, amused as he watched Tony’s lips stretch and his jaw work, forcing himself not to automatically suck on the invading digits. Tony’s brown eyes were wide and staring over his shoulder best he could, his cheeks pink with desire.

Buck’s fingers traced over Tony’s bared flesh for a moment, letting Tony settle into his exposed situation, vulnerable in only the best possible way, and then said, “We’re going to have to start keeping certain supplies handy down here.” then Tony’s lips were free only long enough for him to say, “I can’t believe you think I don’t have condoms in my jacket--” then Bucky’s prosthetic fingers were replacing those of the suit. Tony slurped on them greedily until they were dripping and Bucky whispered, “Good, sweetheart.” before they were pressing slowly into Tony, stretching him with surprising patience.

He spent some time there, stretching Tony open with spit-slicked metal fingers that warmed slowly until Bucky’s own breath was ragged and he couldn’t merely watch Tony writhe and moan on the table- his mouth having been left free at this point if only so Barnes could enjoy the sounds he was eliciting with every stroke of his new fingers.

Tony’s jacket was too far away and Barnes was forced to abandon Tony entirely to go fish the little packet out of a pocket, leaving Tony wailing, “Fuck, Barnes, c’mon, I’ve got a _heart condition_.”

“I didn’t realize orgasms were a treatment for that.” Barnes mused as he tossed the wrapper aside and sidled back up behind Tony. Tony’s back arched and he strained to stretch back, feeling empty and wanting but unable to move much for the big metal hands holding him still on the table.

“They are. They are. Doctor’s orders. One good fucking a day keeps the--”

Barnes cut him off as he gripped Tony’s hip and drove home with a single, smooth thrust and Tony’s voice lifted into a ragged cry of relief and the faintest trace of pain mixed with the pleasure.

Buck bent forward over Tony, his added weight trapping the smaller man against the worktable. His newly sensitive hand slid up Tony’s back, bunching his shirt along the way and then across the rumpled fabric to his throat once again.

Tony’s breath caught and he squeezed tight around Bucky, inviting, “It’s not polite to make people beg.” he rasped before Bucky’s hand had tilted and shifted his thumb to Tony’s lips. Greedy, Tony latched on with a moan- the metal was still cool against his mouth and he rolled his tongue over the thumbprint, knowing full well that Bucky would feel every tiny bit of it.

Bucky let out a shuddering moan and his hips stuttered once before picking up a rapid, hungry pace. Tony’s moans were jolted to a higher octave with every powerful thrust and he found himself arched backward as Buck’s relentless hand kept his grip but he straightened a bit to get better leverage. Tony’s hands remained pinned in the Mark XLVI’s unforgiving grip.

When his keening had taken on a whole different melody, Buck took the cue and Tony’s voice grew to twice the volume as he tore his prosthetic hand away and snaked it around Tony’s hip to grip him. It was bizarre just how much power could be in a machine and yet Bucky could hold onto Tony’s needy cock with the perfect grip to stroke him over the edge without batting an eye.

Tony’s voice cracked as he came, spilling over Bucky’s brand new hand, christening it in the lewdest way and Bucky released him only to bow his own head to the back of Tony’s shoulders and drive himself home through Tony’s squeezing pulses. When he finally stilled and let out a sharp breath of relief, Buck tiredly ordered the suit away and pulled himself free.

After a cursory clean up he had Tony cradled against his chest on the old leather couch tucked in the corner where Tony typically caught a couple hours of sleep every once in a blue moon.

“Should I warm it up next time?” Bucky wondered, his voice low and gravelly with contentment against Tony’s ear.

Tony’s sluggish smile was pleased but he shook his head, tilting his chin so he could tuck his face to the overgrown five o’clock shadow on Bucky’s throat, “Nah, I like warming it up for you.”


End file.
